


Take Me Out in Style

by sugarby



Series: dmc wtnv au [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 'cool' uncle Dante, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Inspired by Welcome to Night Vale, M/M, Nightvale AU, V is his own character, Walking In On Someone, awkward dad Vergil, human devil hunters, wtnv knowledge not required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "Nero," V sighs. "I appreciate the concern—""Fucked, V. Librarians and all that." Nero reiterates with, what V thinks is, unnecessary volume. "And no-one fucks my pretty boyfriend but me." He tries and is successful with his charms most of the time, but this doesn't land the same way, judging by the lack of response, so he silences and reflects. "I mean, uh...I love you?"(OR V's desperate to return an overdue book and avoid the late charge while Nero wants to make a start on his demon hunting career).





	Take Me Out in Style

**Author's Note:**

> You don’t need to know WTNV to understand this but it’ll make this more enjoyable. In layman's terms, it’s a podcast set in a fictional desert town where the weird and supernatural is considered normal and the normal gets you ostracised. You’d love it! ❤ I go through this phase of not listening to it for awhile and then missing it so much I just jump back in. I’m currently on episode ninety something and I own both the spinoff books.
> 
> This might be a weird crossover but I think V would fit in Nightvale, and I try to live creatively by Haruhi Suzumiya’s quote: _‘If it doesn’t exist, I should just make it myself!’_.
> 
> I'm actually really proud of this ヾ(ﾟ∀ﾟゞ)

It's brought not only to V's attention but the entire city when the host of the daily radio show announces, "Listeners, we have a message from the city library. The only copy of the fifth instalment of poetry by William Blake is two days overdue, and the librarians aren't happy. They're hissing more than usual." from the speakers of every allowed media device. Prominently, in V's case, clear from the small bluetooth device on his bookshelf a few metres across from him. "If you're the current owner, you're expected to return it by the end of the day or incur the late fee of skin peeling, severe guilt, and forty red orbs."

V looks down to the book in his lap with the same letter boldly printed. It's barely been reacquainted with his hands after he got up to make a cup of tea for the cozy pastime ahead he'd planned. Now, this wouldn't even be an issue if he hadn't caught that cold that's going round. He's usually ill but it's usually from fatigue and numb joints making normal function harder; but it was the out of place chill in the spring air this time, and, possibly, the time he voluntarily spent with his boyfriend who was infected with it first.

"Now a word from today's sponsor: Capcom." the host proceeds, "Struggling with your inner demons and want to feel SUPER SEXY SSSTYLISH?" he asks on behalf of the company over a whimsical tack, "What you need is a SUPER SEXY SSSTYLISH coat that only costs your entire life's savings! Purchasing the jacket includes complimentary stabbing, the pain of an estranged relationship with a loved one, and a coupon for one free sundae!" the host breaks character to interject that he, personally, isn't enticed as he already has an estranged relationship with a loved one, but the sundae sounds good. 

The rest of the sponsored ad fades away, unimportant compared to V's ringing phone. Leaning over to grab it, a certain someone already in mind, he answers, "Hello?"

Teasing tuts come through, "Keeping a book past its due date? Starting to think I'm kind of a bad influence on you." 

V smiles, "One would assume, but I believe it was the doing of that cold you evidently passed on to me." 

"Or is that bullshit for you just forgot?" Nero retaliates but doesn't even half mean it, knowing that'll never be the case because even on his deathbed, V would see any unfinished task to the end. "No, I know. Thanks for being there, Lady Nightingale."

"I'll send over my service fee."

"What, no special perks?"

"I presumed my company was enough. How disheartening."

"How about I take you to dinner instead?"

"Deal."

"Tonight then." Nero promises. "Hey, you busy right now?"

V glances at his untouched tea gone cold now, at the folded blanket at the end of his couch that he didn't get the chance to drape over him, and at the book still not read past the first few pages. He can easily hibernate like this if given the opportunity. "Potentially. Why, what misadventure are you going to involve me in this time?"

Nero laughs, "And ruin the surprise?"

"Well, as you and every civilian in the city have just heard, I have an overdue book to return. I'd prefer it if my skin wouldn't peel away."

"Like a face mask... _Not that I use those._ " it's added after a reflective pause, "Nico and Kyrie, you know?"

"It wouldn't hurt to."

"Fuck you. We can't all be perfect."

Thumb carefully playing between the pages of the wanted book, teeth resting on the lower lip and feeling the pulse beneath quicken to match his heartbeat, V can't argue with the satisfied smile he has on; his lips pull and tuck in to the corners like sleeves hiding shy fingers. "You...You think I'm perfect?"

Nero can probably pick up on his reaction, hearing his breath so closely the heat of its practically across his neck—the way it stalled a moment ago. " _I think_  you like hearing me sing your praises. Lucky for you, I'm pretty good at it." Can go all night, even, as they both recall. Long, long in to the night they spend being intimate, unclothed and pressed together against sheets, kissing and stimulating the other in to addictive bliss.

"You are." V's voice drops lower than usual, a finger rubbing the edge of his lips like it's Nero's before he disciplines himself to stop. "And I wouldn't say no to an encore, but duty calls."

"Tell me the truth, was this William Blake dude  _packing_? That why you've been so keen all this time?"

"Childhood affiliate, nothing inappropriate."

"With  _your voice_ , anything's inappropriate."

"Abandoned kittens. Starving children. Gum disease."

Nero sucks in a breath sharply, "Shit, yeah." he groans. "Fucking, give it, to me, baby."

V shakes then hunches over and covers his mouth, just suppressing the horrid sound of his uncharacteristic snort. Nero's right, he is a bad influence. They're so different to each other in aesthetic and personality, Nero being loud and definitive like a bomb, V identifying himself with the tranquility of a night sky, but they blend well. 

"Y-You..." V says then stops to plead with himself to be calm, "You can be quite impossible."

Nero's undoubtedly proud of himself, grinning without restraint, but he calms as well. "So, seriously, you're going?"

"You heard the message—as did the whole city, including your family."

Any time he's been to the Sparda household, there's been malicious words sent back and forth, broken furniture, and always, in the background, the radio show. It's mandatory that its played throughout all homes twenty-four seven. As well as news ranging between trivial, mind-blowing and unbelievably horrific, the radio show relays demon attacks by the few gone rogue after gaining sentience, and it's the Sparda family's speciality to deal with them, the uncle decking out in dual guns and the father wielding the longest blade since that edgy jrpg character.

"Yeah but  _no-one actually_  goes there, V, c'mon." Nero, technically, isn't wrong, because the thing about the library is that it's not normal. It has books, sure, and tables and beanbag chairs and a vending machine with a claw that sometimes reaches out to you, but it's not like most libraries.

"'He who desires but acts not breeds pestilence'."

" _V_."

"I'll be fine."

"'Fine'? How about being ' _great_ ' or 'amazing'?!"

"Or perfect?" V will hold on to that and tease him for as long as he can— _forever_ , if he can help it.

"If we get caught by librarians—"

V raises a brow, " _We_?"

"We're  _fucked_."

It'll sound nonsensical to outsiders. Fucked? Librarians? What's that all about, right? Except it makes sense. Well, enough sense, to the citizens. Redgrave is a town but it's strange because demons inhabit it. Coexist, as of recently, with civilians, and some even run their own businesses, selling questionable products and managing secret operations in places the eye can't locate. The ones that aren't taken care of and purged to hell—the ones who don't end up on the wrong side of Nero's family, the  _Devil May Cry_  demon hunters, they thrive and seek refuge among the world above.

Redgrave, now, is a messy amalgamation of humans and demons, and it gets quite clustered around the holidays.

"Nero," V sighs. "I appreciate the concern—"

" _Fucked_ , V. Librarians and all that." Nero reiterates with, what V thinks is, unnecessary volume. "And no-one fucks my pretty boyfriend but me." He tries and is successful with his charms most of the time, but this doesn't land the same way, judging by the lack of response, so he silences and reflects. "I mean, uh...I love you?"

V chuckles. Ah, love. He spent so much time longing for someone to feel that for him, to want him kept safe, that he can't believe it's real sometimes. That Nero of all people, with his constant energy and confidence, feels that for him. Appreciation swells in his heart, aching but not painful. "And I, to quote Winifred M Letts, 'love you in all loveliness, sweetheart. Skies, stars and flowers speak of you to me and every season is your emissary'."

"Such a romantic." Nero's lucky, in his own perspective, to have someone who wants to serenade him with lovesick, mushy poetry that he doesn't always understand past the intention. "Now, the real reason I called is...actually, come over and I'll fill you in."

V gives the overdue book still in his lap a look of condolence. "Alright, I'll see you soon." He hangs up at the same time as Nero and pockets his phone. He just sits for a moment, reflecting. When he stands up, prepared to face the change of plans, he spots the Vague Yet Menacing Government agents watching from their parked, black car, jotting in their notebook.

He feels a bit bad now; his change in plans simultaneously derails their routine of recording his every move and word—as they do for every citizen as the city requires. But it's something new to his routine, and that's surely exciting for them, isn't it?

V watches one of the agents, a suited Red Empusa, tear a page out of their notebook, scrunch it out the window and lose it to the wind. 

 

* * *

 

Though he's fairly acquainted with the Sparda household, V still knocks to be polite. He'll always uphold his manners and announce his arrival no matter how many times Nero just tells him to come in, claiming his Uncle never seems to lock it.

Nero urges him inside by the hand, "Hey. We gotta be quick," he starts, leading them over to the staircase to the left side of the large entryway, "Can't have my Father hearing—"

"Hearing what, exactly?" Vergil asks, all of a sudden by the stairs with crossed arms and a curious expression. How he did that, practically  _teleported_ , he'll never tell, but it'll keep being an irritating advantage.

"Nothing." Nero says and looks away, careful of his burning nose being the dead giveaway. 

Vergil comes closer, "Hello, V."

"Afternoon, Vergil."

"Nero didn't mention that he was expecting you."

"It was...a last minute visit."

Vergil nods despite not clearly know what that means. "I see." he glances to Nero who still refuses to look at him, then refocuses on V. "I suspect you'll be joining us for lunch."

Vergil's weird, and that's  _a lot_  considering all that Redgrave's become.

It had taken him quite some time to accept that his only son is gay, concerned of the ridicule and discrimination he'd likely receive. Surprisingly, though, it had taken him an instant to accept V. He grew fond of him quicker than anyone expected, welcoming his visits and conversing with him over dinners. They even adore the same poet (which felt like a warning sign to Nero at first, but he wasn't going to let his father have any infliction on his relationship). 

It was easy for Vergil to accept V knowing he makes his son happy, and that it simultaneously happens to turn his attention from how much he hates his father for being a deadbeat all his life. In Vergil's defence, he didn't realise he had a son until a few years ago and by then Nero had already learned the important things in life without him: how to shave, how to hot-wire a car and pay taxes, how to properly bow to the benevolent glow cloud (all hail!) that occasionally passes over the city and sometimes showers it in dead demon carcass.

Vergil tries, at least, his best to make up for the lost time and be a decent dad. That includes understanding his son's justified outbursts at him, and even pushing to the back of his mind the unfortunate circumstance in which he was first introduced to his boyfriend.

Nero tells it another way—the "official" way of bringing V over for dinner. But in actuality, Vergil had been pacing outside his room, thinking of a topic they could get to know each other better with, before he walked in.

Here's something: his son is enthralled by the lack of gag reflex. That's something Vergil didn't need to know but does.  

> Vergil didn't leave immediately. Kept a hand back, braced tightly around the knob while he paused in the doorway, using everything in him to focus on his son's horrified expression rather than the state of him: laid back, legs parted and pants down, penis in the mouth of the boy crouched over him.
> 
> Nero rushed but he wasn't quick enough, shimmying his pants back up, fumbling over how close he was to an orgasm, "F-Father, the hell?! Learn to fucking knock!"
> 
> "I d-did." Vergil didn't stutter, that's foolishness, shut up. "You must not have heard. You must be..." he swallowed, "Nero's significant other."
> 
> V ran a hand back through his hair, licking his lips clean, "You can call me V."
> 
> "Vergil. I want you to know, V, that my son is special."
> 
> "I know."
> 
> "And he has a good heart." Vergil has to say that when he's being allowed even an inch in to his son's life after being a deadbeat for most of it.
> 
> "I know that too."
> 
> "Good." Vergil didn't know what else to do or say. He didn't want to submit to the awkwardness and just leave, that was a sign of weakness. So he met their gazes, stupidly determined, "And how long have you two been to—"
> 
> "Father, not now! Just close the door!" When Nero didn't think it could get worse, he watched his father close the door _behind himself_. Nero fell back again, done with everything. He'd died and his hell was this scene continuing to play out. Fuck V for not being phased in the slightest.
> 
> And then, ohh boy, Nico's head barged its way in, a vape between her mouth, "Hey, asshole—Oh, hey, Mr S. Yo, we headin' out or what? You've had me waiting on you for ten fucking minutes now!"
> 
> "Nicoletta..." Vergil waved the smoke away, "Indoor voice, and do not smoke in this house."
> 
> "It's fine, Mr S. Better than the real thing, ain't it?" She blew an artistic shape with the smoke in his space. Then she nudged him, eyeing the pair on the bed, "They're real cute, right? V's the only one who can bring out Nero's sweet side. He's totally whipped."
> 
> Nero was wrong,  _now_ he was dead.

Dante strolls out of the kitchen in his usual nonchalance, "Spoiler: we're having pizza. If you ask me, it’s a great excuse to keep Vergil from the kitchen knives."

“It’s still early, brother. I can just as easily use the pizza cutter.” 

“You can try.” 

“I don’t need your permission.” 

“This is _my_ place, so I decide how I wanna be killed, thank you very much.” 

Ah, the infamous Sparda twins. V doesn’t know the full story but the way Nero tells it, Dante was the favoured child or something, and Vergil’s the power-thirsty jealous one who thinks stabbing people justifies everything.

Typical family feud stuff.

Nero makes a disagreeable sound from the stairs.

V says, "Thank you for the invitation. I'll see where the day takes me."

Vergil nods. He's never loved pizza, personally, but he can understand if its lost whatever it was that lured people to it from the ban on all wheat and its byproducts. It was discovered that it was brainwashing people with demonic snakes, so naturally that had to stop. Dante's never been the same; he cradles the pizza menus and despairs over the delivered box of just sauce and toppings. He tried to make his own and fell into despair again when he had to exorcise it with the sword his father left him.

That's another thing about the family, they have swords. _'Can never be too cautious'_ , V supposes, _'Especially with how the secret police are constantly listening in and watching our moves'_.

“If we’ve put your foolish matter to rest," Vergil's purposefully looking to Nero, "I’ll be in my study.”

“He forgot to mention to keep the door open, kids.” Dante says in passing, though the wink and finger guns he shoots at them is quite ironic. For all the claims he makes about being the cool uncle, he's always encouraging his nephew to be active. When he first met V, he wolf-whistled and tried to high-five his nephew. Nero threw a punch instead. Not for the first time and, knowing Dante, unlikely the last.

Nero flips him off and leads V up to his room, throws himself on his bed afterward with a great sigh, "My family, huh?"

V leans against the doorframe, an ankle loosely crossed over the other,“‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.' I’d like to be able to trace something back to my family.” 

“Shit. Sorry. I know I go on and you don’t—”

V shakes his head, not wanting to get in to it. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s an orphan, his family a mystery to him; nothing left from them but the name of a poet he supposedly read religiously in his childhood, a black kitten with peculiar red eyes that likes to morph into things, and a talking bird. Redgrave, being the way it is, doesn't raise many eyebrows at him. The most they've ever done is shout ‘interloper’ at him when he first came to town, which is the standard procedure for newcomers.

"So, to what do I owe this spontaneous invite over?"

"Oh, yeah." Nero sits up, hands around the ankles of his crossed legs, eager and hopeful. "I've been thinking about all the demons. The ones that have the balls to go rogue. And I wanna do something about it. Help keep people safe and kick ass."

"And...?" V wants to know where he exactly fits in to this. Then he sees it in those determined, sharp eyes of his boyfriend's, where there's a definitive decision. "Nero, I don't—"

"We'll make an awesome team. Plus, Nico said she'd help with weapons and stuff. Apparently she can make kickass gear." 

Yes, Nico is a talented woman, in both being a weapons artisan and helping Nero in to all sorts of situations she could just as well talk him out of. Not that they can't handle themselves but there's no need; they could be normal twenty-something's having normal fun, but of course they and the city aren't normal.

"We gotta keep this on the down-low though. My father overheard me and he's literally forbade me from going." The last place Vergil wants his son heading is in the direction of his uncle when Dante hardly manages to pay his own bills. "He figured you'd agree."

"'He who knows others is wise'," V says, quoting Lao Tzu. "And 'He who knows himself is enlightened'." He sees Nero's lips thin in a pout he won't admit to, as if it's not like he's way out of his depth. "Besides, I have an overdue book to return." 

A light bulb practically goes off above Nero, "Now that I think about it, you know where my Father didn’t say I couldn’t go?” His grin stays for all the consecutive ‘please don’t say the library’s going through V’s head a mile a minute. “And y’know where that scissor demon hangs out?"

"Nero, don't you da—"

“The library!” Nero cheers in an obnoxious, too loud holler like a frat boy that gets the neighbour's car alarm going off and a cat screeching in the distance.

Ah, ambience for V’s fleeting peace.

Nero slides off the bed, moving to take V's hand in his and pull him in close, trying to convince him with sweet tones and soft thumb caresses over his knuckles, tracing the tattoos there. "C'mon, V, it'll be fun."

"Fun." V repeats with a skeptical hum. "Our ideas of fun don't correlate. It's no ambition of mine to become a demon's appetiser."

Nero gapes so wide like someone tore off his other arm and slapped him with it. "No, the fuck? You're a snacc! _No_ , the whole fucking meal. Look at you!"

V pats Nero's hand in sympathy before he removes it, "That’s really not—”

“And dessert.”

“What I was getting at...”

“...Uh, yeah, it sounded better in my head.”

 

* * *

  

Vergil: Don't entertain my son's foolishness. I suspect he'll incur harm in trying to follow my brother's unideal career. Set him straight, he refuses to listen to me.

V is writing…

V: Stubbornness appears to be hereditary in your family.

Vergil: Apparently.

Vergil is writing...

Vergil: Can I count on your cooperation?

V is writing...

V: With all due respect, Nero is 24 years old. I advise you give him space and let him communicate with you on natural terms.

Vergil: I’m concerned his stubbornness and my past absentee won’t allow that.

V: It won’t be his fault if that’s the case.

Vergil: No.

V: We're both familiar with the nature of his heart, so perhaps he'll be merciful and meet you halfway.

Vergil is writing...

Vergil: Understood.

Nero exhausts an irritated groan from over his boyfriend's shoulder, having read the correspondence between him and his father. For Vergil to ask for help means he's desperate. It tugs at Nero's heartstrings a bit but his head reminds him to be angry that he lacked a fatherly figure for most of his life (Dante doesn't count). "He's trying too hard."

"He cares."

"Mm."

They’ve been sat on the sidewalk outside the library for some whole minutes now, wondering how to get in. That’s the thing with this library; people don’t enter or leave, at least as far as they remember, they just wind up inside.

And eventually they do too.

It's a spacious, beige themed place, and no matter what time of day it is, there's always sheer, bright rays projecting through the long window panes from upstairs.

V goes to the main desk at the the end of the ground floor and atop stairs carpeted in red. A round semi circle desk over an ominous sign painted in something like blood, but probably not since killing people is illegal. The head librarian, a Red Empusa, is situated behind the desk, mountains of books behind it yet to be tucked away in shelves.

V sets the book down.

The librarian flickers its fangs at it, then hisses.

"Forgive the delay, I felt under the weather."

It hisses again and clicks.

"It won't happen again."

More hissing.

V believes it's said enough. "Well, thank you. I'll look for another book to take out." V and his cane move from the desk and make way for the non fiction section, past the biography section full of only thirty five copies on the rock musician, Andy Black.

The forbidden section with outdated articles and futuristic novella might lead somewhere, but V doesn't want to lose any fingers from librarians against him trying to browse there.

Nero, however, likes to break the rules and explore. He's deep down the forbidden aisle when he says, "Oh shit. Hey!" calling V over and pointing to the chains protruding from the wall. Around the cuffs is nothing, whatever was chained before now roaming. V won't lie, that's alarming. Librarians have strength and speed that most can't keep up with.

They notice the shadow before their feet of something floating behind, with long, sharp scissors. 

Nero turns around, smiling with feigned innocence, "Oh, my bad. Are we being too loud?"

"Nero..." V cautions, eyes on the demon the whole time. He nods at the door behind in the distance that can possibly lead them outside.

Nero reads him loud and clear, but the hanging sword of the legendary hero from the alternate history week segment on the radio they learned about looks real good right now.

V frowns, watching the demon open and close its scissors, beckoning them. It's not like the demon will just let them leave, but it's not like they can actually fight it either and—

"No way, asshole, _you_ bring that shit _to us_."

"Let's _not_ antagonise the demon holding giant scissors, please."

"We can take it!"

" _No_." They really can't because he walks with a limp and his boyfriend is missing an arm; they're painfully handicapped.

"It's just an ugly blanket that didn't make the final cut of Silent Hill."

The scissors come down, demon seemingly furious at the dig at its appearance.

V jumps out of the way in time, back hitting against the shelf of books to steady himself. He watches Nero twirl across in the air like a gymnastic champion, dash and unhook the sword on the wall, then strike to parry the next attack.

The demon's old-woman laughter echoes around them.

"Calm down, asshole, it's not rock, paper, scissors if you keep throwing out the same thing." Nero pushes and sends the demon back. He steps back near V, in a defensive stance beside him.

V pushes away from the shelves and raises his cane up at the demon.

"Your cane? _Really_?"

V knows it's not the best, but he's hopeful. "It was Christopher Reeve who said 'a hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles'. And Lao Tzu who said that 'he who conquers all is strong but he who conquers himself is mighty." He wasn't looking for a fight with a demon, but all his life, he's been fighting inner demons that have plagued him since birth. The weakness of not being strong, of relying on others,

He glances aside to Nero.

Of needing validation through love.

Nero glances back, "That cold of yours is gone, right?" 

"Mostly, but I'll manage."

"Just try not to pass out on me, okay, Sleeping Beauty?"

V smirks, "Not in this lifetime. 'As the air to a bird, or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible'."

The demon opens and closes the scissors, advancing in a steady drift.

Nero grins and raises the sword, "Okay, let's rock!" 

 

* * *

 

They defeat the demon but are kicked out for unauthorised use of property and for being loud. The Redgrave City library isn't like most libraries, but it still asks its visitors to be quiet.

V managed to select a book to borrow for the next two weeks beforehand and he expects it to materialise on his coffee table by the morning.

"I love that about you." Nero says, "That you'll do everything you can, even if you're in sick or in pain."

"'We must all suffer one of two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret or disappointment.'" V says, quoting Jim Rohn, fittingly. He wasn't born strong in body but in soul and mind, in determination and morality. "Has this demon hunt satisfied you?"

"For now." Nero shrugs, "Kinda see why Uncle Dante likes it so much, so I think I want in on it too."

"Yes, I can see the appeal." V, not having much chance to move, felt alive and full of life and in control while fighting.

"Sorry," Nero grins, "Wanna repeat that?"

"As dangerous as it is, you're right. Someone needs to help clear up the rogue demons."

"We kicked ass in there."

"Just about." He felt like he was pretty much flailing blindly with his makeshift weapon that's intended for support, not battle. "I'm ready for that dinner you owe me."

"Sure. Worked up an appetite anyway. Got a place in mind?" There are places they can go with distinctive menus but all have fallen under the ban of wheat and by products. "There's that place Uncle Dante goes to for strawberry sundaes."

V hums in disapproval, not really feeling a sugar rush.

"That Taco place?"

"It's currently under refurbishment after the demon attack last week."

"Tourniquet then? We get an appetiser, entree and dessert for 35 red orbs."

"Along with the sudden awareness of a hideous suppressed memory, you're forgetting."

"Jeez," Nero groans at how the city's gone to shit to such a degree he literally can't take his boyfriend out on a whim. "Well..." He hates he's even considering this, "We can go back to mine for dinner. If you're okay with meatballs and marinara sauce, and you're sadistic enough to sit through my family's crap."

V smiles, "That'll do just fine." There'll be no charge, no questionable ingredients akin to human remains, no protruding sticks to damage aircraft, and no suffering of one's psyche from a past event (Nero will wager otherwise if his uncle Dante brings out the baby photo album). It'll just be him and Nero and the extended family, but their antics are easy to drown out.

"Nico texted, said she's picking us up." Nero had gotten a text from her in the last few moments or so. "Knowing her, she's probably gonna join and save us no food."

"She has quite the appetite, yes."

Nero leans in to him, arm wrapping around, "We've got some time to kill."

V smiles and leans in too, "And I presume you've already considered how we can best spend it."

"As a matter of fact, let me fill you in..." Nero leans all the way in, and they make out under the sunset until their ride comes.

Despite Nico's furious warnings for them not to get too handsy in her car, she doesn't hide a pleased smile as they carry on, the sounds of the radio show presenting the weather of an upbeat rock rhythm playing as their anthem.

**Author's Note:**

> Today’s weather was ‘Style' by Foster The People. Today’s proverb: Opportunity never knocks twice on a man's door; it tries the handle the third time and sneaks inside. For comments, questions and a place to express your love for V beyond AO3, message me [here](http://ssubby.tumblr.com/) ❤
> 
> And, hey, thank you. ❤


End file.
